


Let's Fall Apart

by simplyollie



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Asexual Character, Canon Trans Character, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I'll add more tags later, M/M, Matteo Deserves a Hug, References to Depression, no beta we die like men, so much crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyollie/pseuds/simplyollie
Summary: It was 3:42 on a Sunday afternoon when Matteo realized he was in love with his best friend.Matteo’s eyes grew wide and terrified just as David looked up at him with a small grin. He quickly looked away, his entire body growing hot and his throat closing as he tried to stop his feelings from showing on his face because holy shit, he loved David.God, he was so fucked.---or, a friends to lovers trope because I'm a sucker for them and Davenzi





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Your Soul" by Rhodes
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome to this story I started writing because I have no life and I'm not ready to let go of these two when the season ends.
> 
> By the way, this story will involve references to depression and panic attacks because Druck refuses to acknowledge it in the show so you know I'm going to. 
> 
> (Also, did I make Matteo asexual just because I am? Yes, yes I did.)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story that I'm strangely proud of.

> _Soul shine,_
> 
> _You must've been so tired._
> 
> _Don't cry,_
> 
> _I must've been so blind._

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was 3:42 on a Sunday afternoon when Matteo realised he was in love with his best friend. 

 

Matteo had been stretched out across the park table, headphones in as he listened to the playlist David had compiled for him. Most of them were joke songs—ones that were connected to some sort of inside joke—but there were a few on there that Matteo knew held some kind of sentimental value to David. Those were the songs that Matteo listened to the most, the ones he’d replay over and over if only to think of the way David had shyly smiled when he first showed him the playlist.

 

Idly skipping through the playlist, Matteo stopped on ‘Can We Kiss Forever’ by Kina, a small smile playing at his lips as he placed his phone down and let the song play, leaning his chin on his folded arms as his eyes traveled up to David. David, who was working quietly and determinedly as he drew in his sketchbook. David, who’s dark and beautiful hair was falling out of its hiding place in his beanie and into his face—the same face that the sun was shining directly on, giving off a soft glow. David’s eyes were squinted and focused, his lips curled and his tongue sticking out slightly between them as he directed all of his attention to his work before him, and Matteo couldn’t help but fleetingly wonder how a person could be so beautiful. He could hardly conceal the barely audible sigh that escaped his mouth as he smiled fondly at his friend, his eyes searching as he tried to take every small detail into account and file it away for later. 

 

It wasn’t until David let out a small triumphant huff and smiled excitedly down at his paper that Matteo realised. When he saw that smile, the one that made his chest grow tight and his face feel hot, he couldn’t help but think,  _ holy shit, I love you.  _

 

Matteo’s eyes grew wide and terrified just as David looked up at him with a small grin. He quickly looked away, his entire body growing hot and his throat closing as he tried to stop his feelings from showing on his face because  _ holy shit, he loved David.  _

 

“You okay?” David asked, concern dripping like honey from his sweet voice. 

 

Matteo swallowed thickly, his shaking fingers playing with the hem of his sweater. “Uh, yeah, j-just got a message from my mom.” 

 

It wasn’t entirely a lie—he  _ had  _ gotten another message from his mom, another passage from the Bible, another reminder that his mom wouldn’t ( _ couldn’t _ ) accept him—he just hadn’t brought it up. Though, it proved to be a liable excuse now considering David totally bought it.

 

“Shit,” he muttered, closing his sketchbook and directing all his focus on Matteo. “What’d she say?” 

 

Matteo shrugged, not meeting David’s eyes. “The usual—some shit about my sins, repenting to God, and asking me if I was going to mass next week.” 

 

David’s face held an enduring grimace, and while Matteo couldn’t help but want his smile to come back, he also didn’t mind that David was concerned for him. Because if he was concerned for him that meant he cared for him, and if he cared for him, well, it meant Matteo was a little less alone than his mind tried to convince him. 

 

“Are you going to go?” 

 

Matteo licked his lips nervously, flashes of his father’s angry face unwillingly entering his mind—his father as he shouted at his mom, as he shouted at  _ Matteo _ , as he left them to fend for themselves—a scared and lonely 14 year old boy left to take care of his mentally ill mother.

 

“My dad will be there, so probably not…”

 

David nodded in understanding—he knew what it was like to have an asshole for a father. While Jonas was the one who knew the most about his family situation, he just couldn’t empathise with Matteo as easily. (Not to mention, he’d been so caught up with Hanna lately). Matteo swallowed thickly, gaze darting from David’s dark and all seeing eyes and down to his shaking hands. David, as if sensing Matteo’s discomfort, grabbed his sketchbook and stood up, reaching out a hand for Matteo to grab. And—despite all the thoughts rushing through his mind about hand holding, face touching, and kissing—Matteo took David’s hand automatically, the two walking back to the flat together like it was any other day.

 

“Thank you,” Matteo mumbled before David left him at his door.

 

David smiled that dazzling smile of his. “I’ll always be there for you,” he paused, smirking. “Just for the memes though.” 

 

David laughed as Matteo flipped him off and he entered the flat with a fond smile playing at his lips. 

 

God, he was so fucked.

 

 

* * *

 

“…but did you guys fuck?” 

“No, no, we just talked. I mean, it’s like, you don’t always have to fuck to have an intimate relationship, ya know?” 

“So you’re together now?” 

“Yeah, we’re going out again this weekend.” 

“Nice.” 

“ _ Then _ you guys’ll do it.”

Matteo sighed as he leaned against the wall of lockers, his mind barely registering Carlos and Abdi’s arguing and Jonas’ input every now and then. He stared lazily at his phone, eyes travelling up to peer down the hall, waiting for David to show up and save him from having to listen to them talk. He loved his friends, he really did, but all they talked about was girls. Matteo didn’t mind it every now and then, people were allowed to talk about those they were interested in, but to talk about girls  _ and  _ sex all the time? They could pick anything to discuss but it would somehow always tie back to girls and sex, and Matteo was left bordly standing there, trying not to drown in his thoughts. 

“Dude, what is it with you and your obsession with my sex life,” Carlos’ voice cut through Matteo’s hazy mind. 

“Because he doesn’t have one of his own.” Matteo mumbled, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

Carlos snorted, throwing a smirk in Abdi’s direction and Jonas clapped Matteo on the shoulder. 

“Damn Luigi, didn’t even know you were with us.” 

Matteo sighed, shutting his phone off and directing his attention to his friends. “Sadly, I am.” 

Jonas shook his head and smiled as he squeezed Matteo’s shoulder. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” 

Matteo scoffed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Bold of you to assume I slept at all.” 

“No wonder you look like shit.” 

Matteo’s head immediately snapped to the owner of his favourite voice  _ (since when had David’s voice become his favourite)  _ a more genuine smile on his face. 

“How rude,” he mumbled with no bite. “I might just go and cry in a corner now.” 

David pouted sarcastically and Matteo felt his face grow hot as he thought about how adorable David looked in this moment. He averted his gaze to the ground, smile still on his face and flush still prominent, hoping nobody had noticed. 

Jonas side eyed the pair, a knowing smile on his lips, before clapping his hands together dramatically. “Okay, now that we’re all here…Matteo, we need a favor.” 

Matteo frowned at his friend’s suspiciously, “for what…?” 

“Party on Friday,” Jonas stated, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We were hoping maybe at your flat?” 

Matteo let out an inaudible groan as he hit his head back against the lockers. Why did it always have to be his place? Why couldn’t they just go out to a bar or something—a place that Matteo could escape whenever he wanted to. If it was his place then whenever he felt overwhelmed he had nowhere to escape to. 

“Why can’t we just go out or something?” 

“Because,” Jonas drawled, shaking Matteo’s shoulder. “It’s better at your place. Plus, Hans and Mia have already agreed we just need your consent.” 

Matteo knew no matter how many times he voiced his own thoughts on the situation they’d still end up having the party. It had always been that way—people talked over him, and he was fine with that most of the time (considering most of the time he was high), but ever since David had joined their group he’d been helping Matteo with his drug habits. Despite now being sober a lot more than not, Matteo still let people talk over him, because if he didn’t then he’d have to put in the effort of actively participating in conversations and he really didn’t want to do that. 

So Matteo shrugged like he didn’t care, leaving the boys to start planning who would be coming and who would bring the alcohol and weed. It wasn’t until they had separated to go to their classes that David said something. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes.” 

Matteo merely shrugged again, letting out a long breath as he stared at the greasy hair hanging in front of his face. He really needed to wash it. 

“They would’ve ended up throwing the party anyway.” He answered like it didn’t matter. It did. 

David sighed, “Jonas would’ve listened to you.” 

Matteo knew he was right, knew that he could’ve just said no and Jonas would’ve found another way for the boys to have fun over the weekend. But Matteo was tired and he really didn’t feel like talking today. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Matteo said instead. “I don’t care anyway.” 

David stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, a hand that burned through Matteo’s multiple layers. “But you  _ do  _ care, that’s the problem.”

Matteo swallowed, his eyes roaming over David’s face before finally maintaining eye contact and giving him a look. A look that said  _ I know, I know you know but please, I just really can’t deal with this right now.  _

David sighed, his head falling forward in defeat, indicating that he’d gotten Matteo’s message. “Fine—just come find me if you get too overwhelmed.” 

Matteo nodded silently. 

They both knew Matteo wouldn’t come to him. They both also knew David would find him anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

The base thumped angrily along with Matteo’s head, sweat soaked bodies pressed up against his, screaming voices overlapped followed by beer and weed stained breath, and all Matteo wanted was to get out of there. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t because he promised Hanna he’d talk to this Sara girl who supposedly liked him. And he would’ve been glad to do it, more than happy even, if he wasn’t so fucking sober and she wasn’t insanely drunk. She seemed like a sweet girl, she was pretty even, but she could barely stand up right and was stumbling over her sentences—sentences that were interrupted every few minutes with hysterical giggles. The longer Matteo stood there hiding his shaking hands in his pockets, the longer her voice molted into the rest of the swimming conversations that were flowing in and out of his head, and the longer Matteo just wanted to scream because why was it so overwhelming in here?

Sara finished saying something with a giddy smile and Matteo sent one back to her—he didn’t want to seem rude. Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to do because then she was leaning forward and kissing him and all Matteo could think was  _ wrong wrong wrong _ , and all he could taste was the off brand alcohol Jonas had brought with him, and all he wanted to do was leave and block out the rest of the world. Just when Matteo was trying to decide the best way to gently push her off him without hurting her too much, she suddenly stopped and pulled away from him, stumbling a few feet to the side before promptly throwing up on the floor. Maybe Matteo should have stayed with her, checked to see if she was okay, but he could still feel her lips on his and everything was so loud and too close and he felt like he was drowning. So Matteo pushed through the bodies with shaking hands and made his way to his room, his breathing picking up more rapidly the second he closed the door. 

His head was swimming and it felt like his ears were clogged with water and he just wanted it all to stop. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he enjoy a party like any normal teenage guy without feeling like he was going to fucking die? The music still seemed to reach his room and Matteo hated it—hated the way it built up and into his body, making him feel like he wasn’t himself. He hated how nothing stopped, not even when he covered his ears with his headphones (headphones that weren’t even going to fucking work because he couldn’t find his phone). He hated how nothing was quiet but he didn’t want it to be completely silent, because if it was then it would feel like that time his mother had tried to drown him when he was a child, when she tried to show him how she felt every fucking day. Well, he knew now, didn’t he? He knew now and it fucking sucked because he wasn’t in control and he was being pulled under against his own will and he could still feel Sara’s lips and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Rolling a joint would be nice. It would be helpful in making everything more bearable. It would be great, even, if his hands weren’t shaking too bad for him to be able to roll one. So instead he threw his balcony window open and slumped on the floor beside it, a pillow wrapped around his head in a vain attempt to block out the insistent ringing in his ears. He knew it wouldn’t help, but it was always a start.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring blankly at the wall as he tried to block everything out, but all too soon the door was being opened and letting in the deafening music. It stopped as quickly as it started though and Matteo dragged his heavy gaze towards the door to find David standing there. He didn’t say anything, simply grabbed the headphones Matteo had angrily thrown across the room and connected them  to his own phone. He gently placed them over Matteo’s head, softer and more endearing music suddenly filling his ears. His tight grip on the pillow didn’t loosen, but he found himself gladly leaning into David’s arms as he focused on the soothing music and blocking everything else out. This wasn’t the first time David had done this for him—and it wouldn’t be the last—but it was the first time since Matteo had realised he was in love with him, and if he wasn’t so fucked right now he’d be freaking out. Instead he simply leaned closer to his friend, allowing David’s hand to run soothingly through his hair as he breathed him in. It was nice, it was comforting, because it was David and he knew how to make Matteo feel like he wasn’t being forcefully shoved under water repeatedly until he drowned. Because David was a constant presence that Matteo would never object to or push away, because he made him feel safe and  _ okay _ . Because it was David, and everything about him drew Matteo in and he didn’t even try to resist. 

Who would?

* * *

 

Waking up next to David was something Matteo was used to. However, waking up next to him with a heavy pang in his chest was not something he was used to. It wasn’t new in any way whatsoever—he had woken up next to Jonas so many times when he’d had that persistent crush on him—but it was different somehow. It was different because with Jonas it was just a crush, something Matteo was sure he’d pass, something he  _ had  _ to pass because it was  _ Jonas _ . But with David it was different. With David it was more real, lasting, and raw. It was raw and it fucking hurt, because unlike Jonas, David wasn’t straight. He had come out to them as pansexual shortly after telling them he was trans. David not being straight meant there was always the small possibility that he could reciprocate Matteo’s feelings—but that didn’t make it any better. David wasn’t straight, which meant if he didn’t like him, he didn’t like  _ him _ . It wouldn’t just be because he was only into girls, it would be because Matteo was…well Matteo, and nobody liked Matteo. Matteo was just Jonas’ stoner best friend, the quiet one that didn’t say or do anything, the one that no one noticed or cared about. Although, Matteo didn’t exactly blame them. 

Matteo hadn’t had anything to drink last night, which led to him waking up earlier than usual, which led to him watching David’s face as the early morning sun shone in from the window. David, Matteo noticed, was beautiful when he slept. Maybe it was the added sunshine making his face glow, or maybe it was just the way that his perfect eyelashes fanned over his cheeks while his eyes were closed. Maybe it was the way his mouth was parted into a small, serene smile as he slept, small and barely audible breaths emanating from him every now and then. His hair was a perfect mess that Matteo longed to reach out to, to run his fingers through and play with—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, because he can’t risk anything between them, can’t risk his own heart breaking even more when David leaves because he’s a pining idiot. With Jonas he could take more risks, with Jonas it had been easier because he knew if he found out he would be okay with it. Jonas wouldn’t have made it weird because that’s just the type of person he was. David would be okay with him being…into guys…but he wouldn’t with Matteo liking him. It would be weird and awkward and David would probably be disgusted and leave because he’s Matteo Florenzi, the Boy That Everyone Abandons.

So instead of giving into the urge to run his hands through David’s hair, Matteo pushed himself up carefully from the bed, grabbing his phone (that David had somehow found) as he stepped over Jonas’ body sprawled across his floor, and made his way to the kitchen. The apartment was silent, but once Matteo reached the kitchen he found Mia sitting at the table, nursing a mug of coffee. Right, he forgot Mia didn’t drink. 

“Morning,” she greeted with a smile. 

Matteo grunted in response as he poured his own mug of coffee. How could people be so…awake in the morning? 

“What are you doing up so early?” Mia asked as he sat down across from her, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and stay awake. 

He took a big gulp of his coffee, ignoring the burning sensation it left in his throat, before answering, “I didn’t drink last night.” 

Mia nodded in understanding, her nails tapping against her mug as Matteo lazily scrolled through his phone. It felt nice, the quiet morning bliss that hung between the two, nothing at all awkward like most of their interactions had been. Maybe he should get up early more often—he knew he wouldn’t do it, but it was a nice thought. 

Mia cleared her throat, grabbing Matteo’s attention once again. “You disappeared last night, was everything okay?” 

Licking his lips nervously, Matteo nodded as he stared down at his mug. “Uh, yeah, I was just tired.” 

It was silent for another moment before, “it’s okay to get overwhelmed every now and then, Matteo.”

There was a lump in his throat and he didn’t know why. Of course it was going to be Mia that noticed first, she was observant as fuck and, well, she cared. Despite her indifference to Matteo moving in at first, he knew she cared about him (in her own way). 

“I know,” he whispered. 

She didn’t miss a beat. “Do any of the boys know?” 

Matteo, however, hesitated. “David does.” 

Mia frowned and Matteo clutched his mug tighter.  _ She knows, she knows, she knows.  _ He should’ve just stayed in bed like he usually does, interacting with other people always led to something bad.

“Not Jonas?” She asked, confused. “I thought you guys told each other everything.” 

_ Oh far from it,  _ he thought to himself bittersweetly. Jonas still knew nothing about Matteo’s role in the break up between him and Hanna—Hanna had promised not to tell because, well, she was Hanna and she was amazing like that. Jonas didn’t know about… _ the other thing _ either, and he didn’t know if he ever would. 

Matteo shrugged, “he’s got enough going on already.” 

Mia looked like she wanted to argue but chose not to. Instead she reached out and grasped Matteo’s hand in her own, squeezing it in a surprisingly comforting way.

“You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know that right?” At Matteo’s hesitant nod, she smiled, squeezing his hand another time before pulling back. “I’m glad you’ve got David though, he seems like a great guy.” 

“Yeah,” Matteo said, almost wistfully, “he is.” 

 

 

* * *

 

On Monday at school, Sara approached Matteo with red cheeks and shy smiles, apologising for how drunk she was at the party and thanking him

profusely for not taking advantage of that. 

“There’s just so many guys out there that’ll use that as their gain, ya know?” She had said, biting her lip and playing with her hair. 

Matteo had nodded numbly, “ja, what assholes.” 

Matteo hadn’t known where the conversation was going, simply went along and smiled and laughed at the right moments, hoping that maybe she’d see through his facade and notice that he really wasn’t interested but didn’t want to say anything hurtful. Instead he ended up giving her his number and she left with the promise of texting him and seeing him that Saturday for a date. 

Fuck.

God, why did people let him make these decisions? Don’t get him wrong, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Sara—she seemed so sweet and was extremely pretty—but now he was going to have to try and stop this before it could go too far. He really didn’t need to be hurting anybody else in his life.

Matteo had been perfectly content with keeping the whole Sara thing under wraps. They’d go on a date and Matteo would tell her that he thought she was a really great girl, but he just wasn’t interested. The boys didn’t need to know, and David certainly didn’t need to know. Hanna, however had other plans. 

They had been at lunch when Hanna approached with a high pitched squeal that was immediately followed with Matteo being engulfed in her arms.

“Sara told me everything about the party and then this morning,” Hanna said excitedly, shaking Matteo’s shoulders as she spoke. “She’s so happy, and so am I! You two would be so cute together!”

After Hanna left, Matteo was an awkward blushing mess as he tried to avoid his friend’s’ persistent stares. He could feel them watching him, stripping him bare and trying figure out every intricate detail that was going on in his head. ( _ Well, good luck with that _ ). There was hand on his shoulder, Jonas, and a grinning Carlos and Abdi sitting before him—his blush of embarrassment had obviously been mistaken for him thinking of Sara. Great, just fucking great. Matteo didn’t even want to look at David right now. 

“Dude,” Abdi practically wined. “Since when?” 

Matteo knew there was no getting out of this—all they talked about was girls, and here they were, being presented with a new girl that had been brought up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his seat. 

“Uh, we met at the party, but she was super drunk so nothing really happened,” he paused as he fully began to process the fact that he was actually going to have to go out and socialise this weekend. “And, uh, we talked this morning and now we’re going out this weekend.” 

“Nice one, Mister Florenzi!” Jonas was shaking his arm the way that he did when he got excited, something that Matteo usually found enduring, something he would usually smile fondly at. Now it burned. It burned because the reason for his friend’s excitement was something so fake that Matteo already felt bad for Sara and he hadn’t even really done anything yet. But Matteo couldn’t say that, he couldn’t even show it on his face, because then the boys would question him, and then he’d have to explain. He didn’t want to explain. He hadn’t even said the words aloud to himself, how was he supposed to say them to anybody else?

Everything was fucked. Everything in Matteo’s life was fucked and David wasn’t looking at him. Matteo tried to catch his eye, to show him how much he fucking hated this, how much he didn’t want it. But David was purposefully staring down at his food, refusing to look up despite Matteo’s burning gaze on him. It hurt. It hurt like hell and it took everything in Matteo not to just burst into tears right there. 

He skipped the rest of school, went straight back to flat and locked himself in his room. He buried himself in the thick covers that had been wrapped around David for most of the weekend, headphones shoved forcefully onto his head as he repeatedly listened to David’s playlist over and over and over until he was full on sobbing into his pillow. He didn’t know how long he stayed there crying—silently, loudly, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was a fucking fraud and he just wanted David. But he couldn’t have him, he couldn’t have him and he felt like he was inhaling water. Mouthful after mouthful of water with every gasping breath, water that burned his throat and destroyed his lungs. Another broken sob tore loudly from his chest and he kicked angrily at the covers around him, ripping the headphones from his head and throwing them aggressively across the room. They crashed to the ground loudly at the same time that his door was pushed open, a concerned Hans poking his head inside to see what the fuck was going on. 

“Butterfly, what’s wrong?” 

Matteo just shook his head, angrily swiping at the tears on his cheeks—though it was all in vain as more replaced them directly after. Hans dutifully made his way over the to the bed, sitting right by Matteo and pulling him close. Matteo didn’t even try to resist, simply cried more openly the tighter Hans held him. God, he wanted to be okay. He wanted to be okay  _ so bad.  _ Why couldn’t he just be a normal teenager who dealt with things in a more rationalised manner? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because Hans was patting his head like David had done multiple times before, he was rocking him back and forth like a small child and Matteo hated that he was comforted by this. He hated it, he hated  _ this, himself _ , and how much like his mother he was turning out to be. No wonder his father left, if he had to deal with situations like this everyday, Matteo didn’t blame him. He would’ve left himself a long time ago if he had the chance. But he didn’t. All he had was Hans’ hold on him, followed by soothing mutterings that were somehow helping him calm down, helping him come back to himself and realise that he could, in fact, breathe and that he wasn’t drowning in the middle of his bedroom. 

When his tears dried and his stuttering breaths slowed down, Hans laid Matteo down on his side, following suit without relinquishing contact. He ran his hand soothingly up and down Matteo’s arm until he could feel himself starting to slip into blissful sleep. The last thing he heard was a quiet, “it’ll all be okay, Matteo, eventually it’ll all be okay.” 

Matteo wanted to believe it, he really fucking did. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he would always have a rock in his chest. A rock that wouldn’t leave him alone, a rock that was the persistent reminder that nothing in Matteo’s life stayed good.  _ Nothing.  _

  
  
  
  


He didn’t go to school the next day. Jonas showed up and they watched a movie together—Matteo sensed his friend’s silent support despite the fact that he didn’t really know what was happening. 

David didn’t visit him at all. 

 

 

* * *

 

Matteo picked Sara up on Saturday at 1. She insisted it be a lunch date, claiming it was more low key and less awkward. He had showered—per Hans’ request—and put on his nicest hoodie, trying to look like he cared at least a little bit. Sara was wearing a cute cream sweater and had her hair pulled back. She was full of happy smiles and cute giggles, her ankle always finding Matteo’s under the table. It was new for Matteo, kind of confusing, but she was sweet and kind and Matteo didn’t mind spending time with her. Somehow, Matteo had ended up with whipped cream on his nose, and, with a giddy smile he didn’t even know he was capable of, Matteo reached out and flicked some onto Sara’s face in retaliation. They held hands as he walked her back home, arms swinging between them like they were children as they discussed different places they wanted to travel to. Matteo hugged her when they reached her house and Sara kissed him. The minute her lips touched his Matteo knew it was wrong, but soon images of David being distant over the past week flashed through his mind and he kissed her back. He wasn’t proud of it, he knew it would be something he’d regret, but Sara was nice and it was distracting. (God, he was such an asshole). 

They made out for a while against her front door, and between kisses Matteo invited her to an outing he was going to with the boys and girls next Friday. She grinned brightly at him, giving him one last kiss with a promise to text him before heading inside. 

Matteo wasn’t proud of the smile on his face as he walked home, or the suggestive look Hans and Mia gave him when he got home. He absolutely hated the way he felt when he asked the boys if Sara could join them—like that rock in his chest was growing heavier and heavier at every suggestive comment the boys made. He felt like he was going to be sick when David told him he was happy for him, that pleasant smile of his on his face as he rested his hand on Matteo’s shoulder. 

Why did he do this? Why did he get himself into these situations? God, he was so fucking stupid.

 

 

* * *

 

Sara was Matteo’s girlfriend.

It felt nice but so wrong. So so wrong. Everything about it was wrong but he couldn’t say anything because every time he opened his mouth the words got stuck in his throat. He didn’t know why he was doing this. He was a horrible person, the worst kind of person. But Sara was happy, she was so happy whenever they were together—Hanna had even approached him and told him how much brighter Sara seemed. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t end it just like that because then she’d be sad and Matteo hated making people sad. He knew by not saying anything it was only making it worse, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He liked to think he was a good boyfriend. He kissed her on the cheek when he walked her to class, he held her hand most of the time, he took her on cute little dates that she seemed to enjoy immensely. He even responded to her messages within a reasonable time—sometimes even right away. The first time he didn’t respond to her all day she was pissed beyond measure. How was he supposed to explain to her that he had been so fucking tired and just needed a break from the world? She wouldn’t talk to him for two days before Jonas explained this to her—that sometimes Matteo just needed a break from everyone and everything, and she wasn’t the only one he didn’t talk to. On the third day she had broken her silent treatment and hugged him tightly for a solid two minutes in the hallway. 

It was nice. The hug. It made him feel safe, protected. It was sensual and Matteo liked sensual touches. He liked the way Sara’s hand would perfectly lace into his, or the way she’d brush his hair out of his eyes, and when she hugged him close while they danced at parties. He didn’t like when they were making out and she’d slip a hand up his shirt, or when she’d press close to him as they kissed, her hands trying to fumble at his jeans. He didn’t like it—it burned, felt wrong, and the further she tried to get the more he felt like he was going to be sick. It wasn’t just Sara, he knew that, and it wasn’t just because she was a girl. Even when he’d had his crush on Jonas he had never imagined them doing anything sexual. It was all sensual, all loving touches and kisses—anything more had made him feel wrong. Just wrong. It was all wrong. It wasn’t enough that he probably wasn’t into girls, no, he also had to hate anything to do with sex—whatever that was.

Matteo had no plans to tell anybody how he was feeling—no matter how overwhelming everything got or how much he hated himself, he wouldn’t tell anybody. Because then they’d see how fucked up he really was, and that would only lead to people leaving and more heartbreak. He hadn’t been planning to tell anybody,  _ really _ , it was the way he was, he just didn’t talk about his own feelings or opinions. But he had been having a shit day and Sara was sick so he couldn’t just drown his thoughts out with her hugs or kisses—he hadn’t meant to tell the boys, he’d just sort of…snapped. 

They were supposed to be studying in the library for their abi’s—emphasis on  _ supposed to _ . They were really messing around, talking about random shit and avoiding having to do any work. Matteo had been absentmindedly playing hangman with David when the conversation somehow shifted to sex,  _ again.  _ And Matteo would’ve been fine with it, would’ve been content with continuing his game with David and blocking out the conversation, but of course he had to be dragged into it. He had a girlfriend now so he was expected to have a sex life, to have stuff to talk about. (As if he’d actually detail what him Sara did even if he did want sex). They just kept on pestering and pestering, never seeming satisfied with Matteo’s shrugs and half-assed answers and he lost it. 

“We’re not having sex!” He practically shouted, gaining the attention of a few random kids. (He didn’t care at this point). “Jesus fucking christ, I mean what is your obsession with sex, anyway? What–what if I don’t want sex, okay? What if I don’t like it? Why can’t I-I just kiss someone and hold them and be with them without having sex? I don’t fucking like it, okay, so just—stop talking about it, please.” 

He was whispering by the end of his outburst, his breathing heavy as he stared intently at his shaking hands. He could practically feel the silence as the boys stared at him—he was just barely aware of the tears building in his eyes. There was a hand on his arm, squeezing, comforting—he knew it was David’s hand without even having to look. 

“Matteo,” he said quietly, soothingly. 

Matteo simply shook his head, pushing back his tears as best he could. 

“Matteo, look at me,” a pause. “Please.” 

He was met with soft, concerned, and understanding eyes when he looked up. David gave him that breathtaking, self assuring smile and Matteo couldn’t help the few tears that slipped down his cheeks. 

“What you’re feeling is completely normal, okay?”

Matteo could only scoff, irritably wiping at his eyes. “What, being disgusted by sex like a middle school girl?” 

“No, dude, that’s not what he’s saying.” Jonas looked and sounded concerned, his face pulled into an adorable frown that Matteo had gotten so used to. “I mean, what if you’re asexual, bro?” 

“Huh?” It was Matteo’s turn to frown, confusion flooding his brain as he tried to figure out what that meant. 

“Asexual,” David repeated. “It just means you’re not interested in anything sexual in a relationship—or at all. You said you like the kissing and just holding someone, so you obviously like sensual touches, just nothing sexual.”

The rock, which had only been getting heavier and heavier all his life, seemed to lift a little, allowing Matteo to breathe easier for the first time in a while. 

“Really?” He was practically breathless, unsure whether this was real or just some sort of cruel joke. 

Jonas nodded, smiling at him slightly, “ja, really.” 

Matteo let out a small relieved laugh as he ran his hands down his face. “Fuck, I thought there was something wrong with me.” 

“There are a lot of things wrong with you, Matteo, but that’s not one of them.” 

Carlos’ sentiment was met with a slap over the head from Jonas and barely concealed giggles from Matteo and David. 

Maybe not everything his life was so fucked. Maybe there was still a small chance that he wouldn’t spend his entire life feeling like he was drowning. It was a nice change, a pleasant one. 

It felt good. 

  
_ Matteo  _ felt good.    


 

 

* * *

 

Matteo still hadn’t told Sara.

He still hadn’t told Sara and her hands were sliding up his back, pulling his shirt up, pressing against bare skin, and it felt so wrong. Her hands were cold against his bare skin but they burned nevertheless and Matteo just wanted her stop. He wanted to go back to her resting her head on his shoulder as they watched a movie, or to just laying close to each other—but not this,  _ anything  _ but this. He pulled back from the kiss hastily, jerking away from her burning hands. He was shaking and breathing heavily and he didn’t want this but he didn’t want to explain it. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” She sounded genuinely concerned—Matteo felt sick. 

“I’m tired,” he mumbled lamely. “Can’t we just…watch a movie or something?” 

“We could…” Sara drawled as she shifted close to Matteo. “Or we could do more of this.” 

Her fingers danced at the hem of his shirt as she lifted it up, leaning forward to try and capture his lips with hers again. He jerked back, jumping to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do it. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get my laptop,” his voice was wavering dangerously. “F-for the movie.”

Sara let out a loud scoff, pushing to her feet and shoving past Matteo as she headed for the door. “You know, Matteo, if you don’t want to have sex with me then just tell me—don’t give me all this bullshit.” 

  
  
  
  


His hands were still shaking when he texted David, and by the time he got there Matteo could still feel Sara’s hands pressing into his back. He didn’t offer any explanation to David when he got there, simply curled up on his bed and let David lay down next to him. He stayed curled up for a good 30 minutes, David’s hand gripped tightly in his, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He knew he was an asshole, knew he was a horrible boyfriend and was just using her, but she had no right to get mad at him for not wanting sex, right? She could get mad at him for using her and lying, but not that. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, it wasn’t. 

“I’m a shitty boyfriend,” he whispered, turning around to face David. 

David was silent for a moment, his eyes roaming over Matteo’s face. “Do you love her?” 

Matteo knew the answer, but he still hesitated, “no.”

“Do you  _ like  _ her?” The question was barely audible and David closed his eyes as he asked it. The words reverberated in Matteo’s mind, settled deep in his chest along with that goddamn rock. Of course he liked her. What kind of person would he be if he didn’t like her? She was such an amazing person and she made Matteo laugh every now and then—plus, sometimes it was easier to talk to her than the boys. He just didn’t... _ like _ her. 

“I don’t know,” Matteo licked his lips nervously. “Maybe...like I said, I’m a shitty boyfriend.” 

“You’re not,” David insisted, and Matteo had to give him props for having such faith in him. “You’re just—” 

“I’m gay.” 

Silence.

Well, shit. He had  _ not  _ meant to say that. Matteo immediately sat up, covering his face with his hands as he mumbled ‘fuck’ over and over—he refused to look at David. 

“God, what’s wrong with me?” He barely even registered that he was talking. “I’m such an asshole leading her on like this, I-I mean I thought,  _ maybe _ , if I dated a girl I’d realise that I like them too. But no, instead I’m just dragging this out and it’s only going to hurt her more.”

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, and a voice was speaking frantically and softly to him, and he only just realised that he couldn’t breathe.

“Matteo, hey, Matteo,” he latched onto David’s voice, the only familiar in his swimming thoughts as he reached out and gripped at his arms desperately. “Matteo, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Just focus on my voice and on taking in one slow breath at a time, okay?” 

He could do that, he could do that. That was a simple thing to do, right? Just focus on David. He did that all the time anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? David’s hoodie was soft and his hands were on Matteo’s cheeks now which was nice. He decided to focus on David’s hands—the way they felt against his face, the calloused palms rough against his skin yet soothing at the same time, the way David’s thumbs were rubbing in slow circles to try and help him calm down. His hands were cold and they felt nice against Matteo’s flushed and burning body. David was perfect. Everything about him was perfect and that’s what Matteo focused on, that’s what he focused on as David’s blurry face slowly came back into view and, fuck, Matteo was crying again. Because of course he was, he could never keep his fucking emotions in check. How many panic attacks had he had in front David now? Too many to count, and too many to focus on as David’s voice was drawing him back in, sitting the two of them back down on the bed, his palms sliding from Matteo’s cheeks and down to his shoulders. (Matteo tried not to whine from the loss of contact).

“Okay,” David’s voice was soft, tentative. Matteo hated it. “Are you good now?” 

Matteo only nodded, letting out a slow breath as he rubbed his hands on his jeans. Fuck, he was so pathetic. 

“You’re not a shitty person,” David was speaking again. “Okay? Do you know the amount of boyfriends Laura had before she fully admitted to herself she was gay? She wasn’t leading them on or being a shitty person, she just hadn’t fully come to terms with the truth, and that’s okay.” 

“Sara’s gonna hate me,” Matteo mumbled. 

David shook his head, “she won’t hate you. She might be angry and confused, but she won’t hate you, that’s not the type of person she is.” 

When Matteo offered no response David wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling Matteo into his side. Letting out a soft sigh, Matteo leaned his head on David’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he peacefully took in everything that was David. 

“We’ll get through this, okay?” David whispered, squeezing Matteo tightly. 

Matteo nodded, involuntarily snuggling closer to David as he in turn wrapped his own arms around him. It was a flight risk now that David knew about him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at this moment—especially not when it felt like David might have just softly kissed the top of his head. He would tell Sara eventually, but right now he just wanted to be with David, to forget everything else and just feel good for once. 

It was nice. It was temporary, but it was nice. 


	2. Holding On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic is my way of coping with the end of season 3—I’m not ready to let my babies go!!
> 
> Also, WARNING for f-slur in this chapter. It pained me to write it, so a lil warning for you guys. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

 

> _I see you under blue skies,_
> 
> _I need a little sunshine._
> 
> _I fell into your brown eyes,_
> 
> _I told you I was your light._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Amira was a godsend.

 

Despite her obvious hostility towards Matteo when they’d first been assigned partners in biology, the two had actually become close friends. She was actually helping Matteo pass the class and she was a great person to hang out with overall. The only problem was that she was observant—even more so than Mia—and she didn’t take anybody’s shit. Matteo knew she’d see through him one day, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

 

They had been studying at her place and Matteo felt he was doing really well—he’d been in a pretty good mood all day, despite the fact that Sara was still pissed at him and now he second guessed everything he said and did around David. But other than that, Matteo was great, he was doing amazing, splendid. ( _He was going to fail bio, was what he was_ ).

 

“Wait, so enzymes speed up the reaction?” Matteo mumbled, scratching his head with a pencil. “Or do they slow it down.”

 

Amira sighed long and hard. “Both, Matteo, they do both. I’ve explained this to you like three times already, is it really that hard?”

 

“For me, yes,” at Amira’s unimpressed look Matteo leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling in complete boredom. “I’m sorry, okay, I just can’t memorise stuff like you.”

 

There was the sound of a pencil being put down followed by a book closing, “no, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed and everything’s annoying me right now.”

 

Matteo nodded, bringing his gaze back down to Amira—that he could understand perfectly well. “We could take a break?”

 

Amira smirked, “look at you, being smart for once.”

 

Offering her a sarcastic smile, Matteo flipped her off as the pair got up and made their way to the living room. Her older brother had a few friends over, and until recently they had been playing basketball outside, but just as Amira and Matteo settled down on the couch they decided to come bounding inside, talking loudly over one another. Matteo winced slightly at the sudden escalation in volume and Amira reached over and threw a cushion at who Matteo assumed was her brother.

 

“Shut up, would you?”

 

Amira’s brother chuckled, grinning slightly as he threw the pillow back at her. “Thought you were supposed to be studying?”

 

Amira huffed loudly, though there was no mistaking the small uplift of her lips. “We’re taking a much needed break, so keep it down, ja?”

 

“Whatever you say, your highness,” was followed by a mock bow as the group of boys laughed and stumbled into the kitchen.

 

The boys could be heard shouting and laughing from the kitchen but Matteo and Amira stayed silent as they absentmindedly watched a random show on TV. It was nice. Everything was always low key and chill with Amira, something that Matteo appreciated. While she made sure he worked and wouldn’t let him give her any bullshit, she also knew when things were too much for him. She never said anything, but they both knew what she was doing. Matteo would’ve been perfectly content with keeping the comfortable silence, but then Amira’s brother and friends were stumbling back through the door, shouting over one another again as they made their way outside.

 

“Did you see the way he played?” Matteo lazily tuned into the conversation, eyes watching as they started to go outside.

 

“Right?” A random guy responded. “Fucking faggot.”

 

Matteo’s chest grew tight as the boys’ laughter followed the comment, the door closing and leaving him and Amira alone again. Of course, of fucking course it wasn’t going to be that easy. He had automatically assumed that after coming out to David things would get better, but they didn’t, of course they didn’t. The word reverberated in Matteo’s head and all he could think of was his father—his father yelling at the gay couple that lived across the street from them, his father then turning to him, only 11 years old, and telling him that it was wrong and he shouldn’t end up like that. His father had cornered him once, when Jonas was over for dinner, whispering harshly that he didn’t need a faggot for a son, so he needed to stop staring at Jonas like that. ( _He had left a few days later, and Matteo had cried into Jonas’ arms, his father’s words coming back to him every time Jonas pulled him closer_ ). Fuck, why did his life have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just have a normal family with a mentally stable mother and a father that didn’t leave? Why couldn’t he be straight? Why couldn’t he like girls and sex and just—be _normal._

 

“…Matteo,” Amira’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and back to the present. He was staring down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap, nails digging deep into his skin.

 

He quickly unclenched his fists, flexing his fingers as he stared down at the angry red nail marks that lined his palm. Fuck, Jonas was going to notice that.

 

“Matteo,” he looked up then, his gaze travelling to Amira’s worried eyes—she had moved significantly closer to him, he noticed.

 

Amira’s eyes flicked from his hands and quickly back to his face, her expression soft in a way Matteo hadn’t seen before. “He didn’t mean it, he’s an ignorant asshole who was just using a random insult. It doesn’t make it right, obviously, but none of Elias’ friends are homophobic, he wouldn’t keep them around if they were.”

 

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Matteo shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “Whatever, doesn’t matter to me.”

 

Amira rolled her eyes, “Matteo, quit bullshitting me—I see the way you look at David.”

 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of _course_ Amira was going to notice that, the observant little shit, and of _course_ Matteo wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. Fuck, what if other people noticed too? What if _David_ noticed?

 

“Hey, relax,” Amira was back to being soft and concerned. “I won’t tell him.”

 

Matteo let out a loud groan, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. Fuck, his life sucked.

 

“Does Sara know?”

 

Matteo couldn’t help but scoff, “we’re still together, so what do you think?”

 

Amira was silent for a moment. “You need to tell her.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled as he leaned back against the couch. “That’s what David said.”

 

Amira frowned, “David knows?”

 

“That I’m gay, yes. That I’m in love with him, no.”

 

“I’m sorry, Matteo,” Amira said quietly. “That must…suck.”

 

Matteo let out a small laugh, “yeah, it does.”

 

It was quiet for another moment and Matteo could practically feel Amira’s eyes on him.

 

“Does Jonas know?” At Matteo’s head shake, Amira pushed on. “About anything?”

 

“I know I’m being stupid,” Matteo muttered, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even more. “I know he won’t leave me because I’m gay—he’ll probably even try and find me a boyfriend—but I just, I can’t tell him yet. David wasn’t even supposed to know, I just blurted it out while we were talking about Sara—”

 

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Amira cut in. “You don’t have to tell him if you’re not ready, _but_ it might be good to, so you two can talk, so you’re not keeping everything bottled up inside.”

 

Matteo knew she was right—he told her so very reluctantly.

 

“I know,” she smirked smugly at him. “And, you can always talk to me if you want to, okay?”

 

“Like you want to hear about my boy problems,” Matteo scoffed, but he was smiling now.

 

Amira shrugged, “I hear enough from the girls everyday, it’ll be new coming from you.”

 

There was a pause before, “so, David, huh?”

 

Matteo resented the way he smiled as his cheeks grew hot at the mere mention of David’s name.

 

“Ja,” he breathed, trying to hide his face from a smirking Amira. “David.”

 

“You two would be cute together.”

 

Matteo threw a cushion at her.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So how is one not interested in sex?”

 

Matteo paused mid bite, raising his eyebrows at Abdi’s blatant question. Carlos was slapping him over the head the second the question was out of his mouth, and Matteo rolled his eyes as he continued to eat.

 

“Ow! Dude, what was that for?”

 

“For being an idiot,” Carlos deadpanned.

 

Abdi raised his hands up in surrender, “I’m just curious, man.”

 

Jonas snorted from next to Matteo. “The same way you were curious when you asked David if he’d sleep with you after he came out.”

 

Matteo sniggered lightly at that, remembering Abdi’s questioning face, and the way David had automatically answered ‘no’ without even looking up from his book.

 

“So,” Abdi was talking to him again. “How is one not interested in sex?”

 

Matteo sighed, glancing at David who gave him a look that said ‘it’s your turn now.’ Running a hand down his face, he leaned back in his chair, giving Abdi the most neutral expression he could muster.

 

“I don’t know, I just–don’t like it,” he let out a slow breath, hoping he didn’t sound fucking weird explaining it. “The idea of it just feels… _wrong_ to me.”

 

“But like, how do you know when you haven’t had sex?”

 

Jonas shook his head at Abdi’s insistent questions and Carlos muttered a quiet, “dude” under his breath.

 

Matteo shrugged, ( _he really didn’t want to talk about this_ ), “I mean, I was always really uncomfortable when you guys talked about sex—I’d feel all weird and gross inside—and then when like, girls slide their hands under my shirt at parties and stuff it’s—well it’s almost like it burns, ya know? It just feels _wrong_.” Everyone was staring at him, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and stared intently at his food. “I dunno, it’s stupid anyway, sorry.”

 

Jonas’ arm was automatically around his shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. “Dude, don’t apologise, it’s not stupid. It’s how you feel and it’s valid, just like you.” The last part was enunciated with a small shake and Matteo couldn’t help but smile. ( _He didn’t know why he was so hesitant to tell Jonas he was gay, he’d be so supportive and Matteo knew it_ ).

 

“Have you told Sara yet?” This came from Carlos, and it automatically made Matteo’s smile slip from his face.

 

Scratching his head awkwardly, Matteo mumbled a quiet, “no, she’s still pissed at me, so…”

 

“Dude, if you tell her she won’t be pissed anymore.” At Carlos’ words, Matteo glanced over at David, just barely catching his eye before the other boy looked away.

 

“Ja, I know,” Matteo mumbled. “But every time I get close to her Leonie gives me this death glare and it scares the shit out of me.”

 

Jonas snorted, “ja, that’s Leonie for you.”

 

“Dude,” Abdi exclaimed, pointing exaggeratedly at Matteo. “Hanna’s throwing a party this weekend, maybe Sara will be there and you could talk to her.”

 

Matteo raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “A party is the last place I’d want to come out to her at.”

 

“You’ll come to the party though, right?” Jonas ruffled his hair as he said this, and Matteo leaned into his friend’s shoulder, hiding his face from the boys.

  
He mumbled a quiet _yes_ into his friend’s shoulder, prompting Jonas to translate for everyone else which resulted in a few over exaggerated cheers. He fucking hated parties. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Matteo couldn’t help but smile as he watched Jonas scarf down his special Pata A La Luigi, childhood memories flooding in—memories of them as children messing around in Jonas’ kitchen, trying to make the weirdest meal possible. He remembered when they were younger and used to hang out every day after school, the days that they’d spend in Jonas’ room playing with lego and even sometimes stealing some of his sisters dolls. He remembered the way Jonas’ mom

would hold him close whenever he showed up crying because of his parents fighting—the way she’d stroke his hair and kiss his head, saying that they were his family and they’d always be there for him. He remembered the late night sleepovers, hiding under the covers with flashlights and telling scary stories. He remembered waking up tangled in Jonas, his heart swelling and his grip tightening on his friend. But it was different now—everything was different now. They didn’t hang out every night, they didn’t have weird family dinners with Jonas’ mom anymore, they didn’t stay up late telling stories, and Matteo didn’t wake up every morning hopelessly in love with his best friend. ( _At least not the same friend anymore_ ). Now when they hung out they were high, drunk, or with the other boys. And Matteo loved it, he loved hanging out with his friends and making corny jokes, drinking off brand alcohol and smoking weed, he loved it. But it was the same all day everyday, and whenever they weren’t at parties or getting high together, Matteo was alone in his room, too tired to move, too tired to do anything except bring his friends down. He wanted it to change, but he didn’t know how to do that. How was he supposed to ask for help when he couldn’t even fucking help himself, ( _as corny as that sounded_ ).

 

“Bro, I missed this.”

 

Jonas’ voice pulled Matteo from his drowning thoughts, and he looked up to find Jonas already finished with his giant bowl of pasta. ( _Just like when they were younger_ ).

 

“What, making a complete mess of the kitchen, which would then lead to us being yelled at?” Matteo was smiling slightly, and Jonas smiled back, shaking his head in amusement.

 

“Yeah, but,” Jonas sighed, sitting up straighter. “I mean we barely hang out like this anymore—just us, ya know? We’re usually at parties or with the boys, and when we’re not, well, I don’t mean to sound like petty or anything, but you’re always with David.”

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

Fuck, what was it with people constantly noticing this shit about him? He’d spent his whole life building these walls, hiding how he really felt from people, pretending like he didn’t give a shit so he wouldn’t get in people’s way—get in their way like he’d done with his mother and father, like with Jonas and Hanna’s relationship—and now everyone was starting to notice him, talk to him, _help_ him. The exact opposite of what he wanted. Because if people started helping him, started seeing more of the side he kept hidden from the public, then the more people were going to start leaving him. And Matteo didn’t know how much longer he’d last if another person left.

 

“What, you jealous or something?” His teasing voice portrayed none of his worries or internal conflict—he was getting better at masking that.

 

Jonas laughed, but shook his head nonetheless. “What, dude no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, David’s amazing, I love him, it’s just you’ve been spending so much time with him I feel like he knows more than me.” Matteo could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it. “I mean, you don’t tell me anything anymore, I feel like you’re distancing yourself from us—from _me_ . Like a few weeks ago, when you stayed in bed all day and Hans told me you hadn’t eaten, I thought after I came over and we watched a movie you’d talk to me, like you used to. You always used to talk to me after panic attacks, depressive episodes, o-or even if you just felt bad. I’d give you time, we’d be silent together, comfortable, and then you’d talk. But you didn’t. And then you exploded at me and the boys, and I’m happy you got to talk, to tell us how you felt and figure out your sexuality, but you just looked so sad and angry, like you’d been holding it in too long, like you felt you couldn’t talk to us. But you can, you can _always_ talk to us—to _me_ —because I love you, and I’ll always be there for you, okay?”

 

Matteo’s chest was tight, his face was hot and all he could do was stare at Jonas. Jonas, his _best friend_ who had always been there for him, Jonas who would hold him through panic attacks and sit with him through depressive episodes ( _long before David_ ), Jonas who _never_ left. Jonas, who was crying but staring back at Matteo so intently that Matteo had to look away. He let out a wavering breath, his hands shaking as he toyed with the sleeves of his hoodie.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

And then the dam broke. Matteo choked on a broken sob, the tears he’d been holding back the entire speech spilling in rapid succession down his face. Jonas was at his side in a second, pulling him close and holding him tight, and all Matteo could do was turn his face into Jonas’ shoulder and continue to cry—loud ugly sobs as everything he’d been bottling up came pouring out. He gripped Jonas’ shirt tightly, his entire body shaking as his breath came out in quick, short gasps, his tears staining his face and Jonas’ shirt. Through loud sobs and hard breathing he continued to whisper ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over, praying that Jonas would understand it wasn’t his fault. It was never anybody else’s fault. It was always Matteo. Always stupid, fucking Matteo, screwing things up, pushing people away, and then getting heart broken when they left, as if it wasn’t his fault in the first place. Because everything was his fault, wasn’t it? Every shitty thing in his life always somehow ended up being his fault, and he was used to it. He didn’t want to be, but he was. And it fucking sucked.

 

But Jonas was pulling him closer, practically placing Matteo in his lap, tightening his hold and kissing Matteo lightly on the top of his head, ( _just the way his mom had done for him when they were younger_ ). He was whispering into Matteo’s hair that it wasn’t his fault, that the way he felt wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t a burden, that Jonas would always be there for him. It only made Matteo cry harder. He didn’t know how long he cried, but they’d somehow ended up in Matteo’s room—Matteo’s head resting on Jonas’ shoulder and Jonas’ head on top of Matteo’s. His eyes were puffy, red, and he could barely keep them open, not to mention the amount of dried tear tracks on his face. ( _He hadn’t cried that much since his dad left_ ). Jonas was tracing patterns on Matteo's arm like he used to, and Matteo absentmindedly played with the hem of Jonas’ shirt. It was quiet. Calm. Everything Matteo wanted to feel everyday—everything be couldn’t feel everyday, no matter how hard he tried.

 

“I’m in love with David,” he whispered, watching as the setting sun shone darkly across his and Jonas’ intertwined legs.

 

Jonas traced a small heart on Matteo’s arm, “I know.”

 

The thought comforted Matteo—a complete contrast to the panic he felt when Amira told him she knew.

 

“You do?”

 

Jonas nodded against Matteo’s head. “I didn’t want to say anything, especially after you started dating Sara, because I thought maybe it was a crush but you were also into girls.”

 

Matteo swallowed thickly, “I knew it was more than a crush,” he mumbled. “But I thought if I dated Sara it would go away, that I’d realise I liked girls too.”

 

“But it didn’t?” Jonas paused for a second. “Go away, I mean.”

 

Matteo shook his head. “I feel really shitty about it, because Sara’s so nice and I like her a lot, but I’ll just never like her that way.”

 

Jonas hummed quietly, “are you going to tell her soon?”

 

“Ja, soon,” he drew in a shaking breath. “I just…need to find the right words, and I don’t know if I should just tell her I’m gay, or if I should also say I’m asexual, I just…don’t know.”

 

“Take your time,” Jonas mumbled, squeezing Matteo’s arm comfortingly. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

 

Matteo merely nodded, settling in closer to Jonas and closing his eyes, basking in the calm of the situation. He knew he’d overthink things later, that his brain would spiral, sending him all these thoughts that told him he was going to lose Jonas over this. But he was calm in the moment, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. So he let Jonas continue to trace random shapes on his arm, and he let himself curl into his best friend’s embrace, allowing himself to be comforted and cared for.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sara’s arms were around Matteo’s shoulders, her forehead was leaning against his and she was smiling hesitantly at him. She wasn’t drunk, which meant she had forgiven him when she approached him at the party, which meant Matteo was going to have to tell her soon because he couldn’t keep dragging her along like this. Now, though, now he’d just dance with her. He’d lean his head on her shoulder and let her sway them side to side, because it was nice and Matteo knew she liked to lead. ( _She’d also been less touchy at this party, probably due to last time_ ). He reveled in her soft yet firm arms holding him tightly, like a hug protecting him from the rest of the overwhelming party—it was comforting, it was nice. _It was temporary._ He caught Jonas’ eye across the room, the brunette giving him a small encouraging thumbs up, earning a tired smile from Matteo as he pulled back from Sara.

 

“Do you want a drink?” The party wasn’t too crazy yet, so he didn’t have to shout, but he did have to talk louder than he’d prefer.

 

Sara shook her head, brushing Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m not drinking tonight.”

 

Matteo shrugged, “Hanna has soda.”

 

“Okay,” Sara smiled before kissing him lightly on the lips. “Sounds good, thanks.”

 

He pushed his way through the throngs of people—accepting a drunken hug from Hanna—and made his way into the kitchen. It was significantly less crowded, though there were still quite a few people hanging around. He rummaged through the fridge, finding the good sodas he knew Hanna hid from others. ( _Him and Jonas were the only ones, besides the girl group, who knew where they were_ ). As he made his way back towards Sara, he noticed David talking with Leonie. The latter was laughing loudly, leaning into his shoulder and taking his hand in her own. Matteo tried to ignore the way his chest tightened when David didn’t pull away from the touch, when he almost seemed to lean into it, his smile growing. David had told him he wasn’t interested in Leonie, so it was fine, nothing was happening.

 

Matteo was pulled from his thoughts by Sara greeting him, once again, with a quick peck on the cheek. She grabbed the soda, taking a small sip before grinning up at him.

 

“You’re the best boyfriend, you know that right?”

 

 _He really wasn’t_ . Matteo shrugged, “I do try.” _He really didn’t._

 

She giggled lightly and then she was kissing him again. Despite himself, Matteo leaned into it slightly, bringing his hand up to cup the back of her head. He breathed in everything that made up Sara, everything that made her the sweet and amazing person she was, because she was going to hate him in a few minutes and he really liked her—he did—so it was going to suck when she left. He pulled back, forcing a small smile as he bumped their noses together, and then he grabbed her hand and led him to Hanna’s spare room. ( _It was, thankfully, empty_ ). She was still smiling when they sat down on the end of the bed, her hand firmly interlaced with his. Fuck, he was about to break her heart.

 

“I’m really sorry,” he started quietly, and her smile didn’t immediately drop, which meant she was clueless. “I’m such a shitty person, and you can be as pissed as you want after I tell you this. I-I just thought maybe you would change this—I mean you’re this amazing and beautiful girl, and I like you so much, but I just—I can’t pretend anymore, because it’s going to hurt us both the longer I push it back.”

 

Sara looked fucking terrified and Matteo wanted to die. “Matteo, what…”

 

He turned his gaze to his lap, squeezing her hand on last time before pulling it away.

 

“I—I’m gay.”

 

It was quiet for a moment before, “Matteo, I swear to god, if this is some kind of joke—”

 

“It’s not!” Matteo was quick to reassure her. “Believe me, I-I wish it was, because then it would make me less of an asshole for leading you on.”

 

Sara was staring intently at him, and she must’ve seen something on his face that indicated he wasn’t lying, because then she was angrily setting her jaw and staring down at her lap. She stayed quiet and the roaring in Matteo’s ears grew.

 

“Say something,” he whispered. “Please.”

 

She drew in a sharp breath and stood up. “I don’t hate you,” she started slowly. ( _Thank god_ ). “I’m pissed, but I don’t hate you.”

 

She paused again, glancing over at Matteo still sitting on the bed. She must’ve seen how pathetic he looked because she smiled sadly at him—it was forced, but at least she was trying.

 

“I—I just need some time, to kind of process this before I talk to you again.”

 

Matteo nodded, “that’s okay.”

 

She made her way to the door, but hesitated. “Just to be clear, we’re broken up now, right?”

 

“Ja,” he muttered.

 

At that, Sara’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded quickly before leaving, slamming the door behind her.

 

Matteo sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair as he flopped back onto the bed. He knew that was the best way it could’ve gone, that Sara was being nice and controlling her emotions around him, but he still felt like absolute shit. He suddenly felt the urge to leave, so that’s what he did. He got up to quickly find Jonas and let him know that he was leaving, though instead of finding Jonas he found David and Leonie. David was pressed up against the kitchen counter, his arms around Lenoie’s neck as they kissed. No, not kissed, made out. They were full on making out a few feet in front of Matteo and he couldn’t fucking breathe all of a sudden. He turned on his heel, shoving through the growing crowd of people, his vision obscured by tears as he made his way outside. His head was spinning, everything was too loud and too close, and holy shit he couldn’t breathe. He just ran. Matteo ran and ran, not bothering to figure out where he was going or if anyone had noticed, he just kept going, pushing down all his roaring emotions and that goddamn rock his chest. David and Leonie kept playing in his mind, over and over, like a broken record trying to fuck with him. _David pressed up against the counter, Leonor’s hands on his hips, his smile as he leaned into the kiss._ Holy shit, Matteo couldn’t fucking breathe.

 

He only stopped when his legs gave out, collapsing in a way that would’ve been funny had he been in a different situation. His chest was heaving, his arms were shaking, his heart was beating rapidly, and he still couldn’t fucking breathe. He screamed, loud and broken, punching the ground over and over until he was sure his knuckles were broken. He was crying, sobbing, curled up on the street like the pathetic little shit he was. All this because of a boy? A boy he knew couldn’t love him, a boy that would _never_ even look at him as more than friends? Because, why would he? Who would ever fucking love Matteo Florenzi? Nobody, that’s who.

 

He didn’t know how long he stayed on the ground, but when he came to his senses his head was splitting open and his hands were swollen and throbbing. He barely had the energy to pick up his phone, let alone make a call.

 

They answered on the second ring.

 

“Matteo,” Mia’s voice was frantic and it only made Matteo feel more shitty. “Are you okay? We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

 

He could barely speak around the lump in his throat. “I don’t know where I am,” he whispered, his voice breaking halfway through.

 

Mia breathed out slowly on the other end, “Matteo, are there any signs nearby that you can see?”

 

His hand was shaking dangerously. “I’m tired,” he mumbled. He was. He was so fucking tired.

 

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a few muffled voices. “Matteo, please, where are you?”

 

Why did she sound so sad? He didn’t want to make her sad. Fuck, why did he always make the people around him suffer? God, what was wrong with him.

 

“Matteo,” Mia pleaded, her voice cracking. “Please, just a random street sign or the name of a store, _anything_ …please!”

 

His eyes traveled the street around him, catching onto a blurry sign a few feet away. He lazily mumbled the name to Mia, his tongue heavy and swollen in his mouth. Was he even speaking? Could they hear him, or were they just going to leave him alone? It would make sense if they did. Matteo wouldn’t blame them. He dropped the phone to his side and heavily rolled on his back, his eyes fixed on the night sky and the stars. The stars were nice, beautiful even. His mom had been obsessed with space when he was younger, she had bought a telescope and everything so they could watch the stars and planets on the roof together. That had been before his dad left, before everything went to shit. That had been nice—this was nice. He didn’t have to think about anything, because for once his mind was empty. It wasn’t screaming, it wasn’t trying to drown him, it was empty and calm—like that abandoned pool David had brought him to once. It was serene—Matteo was serene—and he liked it, he wished it could be like this all the time.

 

He should’ve known, though, that nothing ever works out for him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Matteo woke up, he wished he hadn’t.

 

The pain was the first thing he noticed. His head felt like it was caving in on itself, and his knuckles throbbed angrily the second he tried to move them. The second thing he noticed was that he was in a bed—his bed, more specifically. Early morning light shone through his window, and all Matteo could do was turn away from it and bury himself further into his covers. He was bone deep tired, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. He stared blankly at his wall, watching the sun move and change overtime until it was late afternoon. Voices filtered in from his closed door, and Matteo blinked lazily as it opened. He didn’t look up to see who it was, simply continued staring, even as the figure sat down beside him. He could make out the ends of blonde hair dancing on the figures shoulders, and his eye caught onto one of Mia’s favourite sweaters. She reached over and placed a soft hand on his forehead, and it wasn’t until then that he realised how hot he was. He leaned into the touch, letting out a shuddering breath as Mia’s cool hand soothed him. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, letting her hand rest there as she absentmindedly played with it.

 

“How are you feeling?” She whispered, sliding her hand down to his cheek before pulling away.

 

He let out a slow breath, shivering slightly at the loss of contact. “Bad,” he mumbled, his voice cracking.

 

“You’ve got a fever,” Mia said, and Matteo hummed in response. “You’re knuckles aren’t broken, but they’re going to hurt for a while.”

 

Matteo only nodded, his eyes slipping closed despite knowing he wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon.

 

It was quiet for moment, but Matteo could still feel Mia’s presence. “We were really worried, you were so out of it when you called, and when he found you you were shivering on the ground and bleeding.”

 

Matteo licked his lips, ( _they were so dry and cracked_ ), “I’m sorry.”

 

Mia’s hand was back in his hair, and Matteo leaned into it despite knowing he didn’t deserve it. “It’s okay.”

 

He shook his head, “its not.”

 

“It _will_ be okay,” Mia whispered instead, kissing the top of his head before getting up to leave.

 

Matteo reached out frantically, grasping her hand. “Stay,” he croaked out. “Please.”

 

Mia smiled sadly before settling down again beside him, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. He was probably all gross and sweaty, but she didn’t seem to care, and neither did Matteo as he closed his eyes and fell asleep to the steady breathing of Mia.

  
  
  


When Matteo woke up, he was alone again. He was practically laying in his own sweat, yet he was shivering violently. He tried pushing himself up, but his head swam dangerously and he had to lie down again. All he could do was lay there and stare up at the ceiling, his head pounding with pain and intrusive thoughts, his chest tight, and his breathing shallow. He clenched his sheets tightly in his fists, only to hiss in pain and quickly unclench them. Matteo couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as he thought of David, of what he would think if he saw him like this. No wonder he was with Leonie—Matteo was pathetic, laying here like this, sulking over something he himself caused. It was no one else’s fault, it was no one’s fault but his, yet here he was, crying over a boy that didn’t love him back. ( _As if he expected anything else_ ). Matteo let out a slow breath as he pushed himself upwards again, the room spinning less dangerously this time. He angrily wiped the tears from his cheeks and unsteadily made his way to his closet, changing into something less sweat soaked. He then proceeded to collapse back into his bed, wrapping himself up in the covers until he resembled a burrito.

 

He fell asleep thinking of David’s arms around Leonie.

  
  
  


There was a knock on his door, and Matteo grunted in response. Linn entered a second later, signature black sweater and messy hair, as she shuffled soundlessly over to Matteo’s bed. They each had a mutual understanding of each other’s mental state, though they hadn’t spoken much since Matteo moved in, it was nice to know somebody else who could understand how he felt. Whenever she stayed in her room for days on end, Matteo would make Pasta a la Luigi and leave a sizeable portion on her shelf. ( _She would always eat it eventually, smiling at Matteo thankfully once she was feeling better_ ). Whenever Matteo was in the midst of a depressive episode, she’d sit silently with him, knowing he wanted some form of comfort but didn’t know how to ask. Sometimes she’d stay quiet, other times she’d read to him or recount her day. It was nice—it didn’t solve anything, but it was nice.

 

“You look like shit,” she muttered, smiling smally at him. ( _So today was a talkative day_ ).

 

Matteo huffed out a small laugh, “I feel like it, too.”

 

Her smile grew slightly and she shuffled closer. “Physically?”

 

Matteo sighed slowly—they always asked each other one word questions when they felt like talking but didn’t want to put in the effort. It was better than constantly being asked if he was okay.

 

“Physically, better,” he paused, blinking lazily at the ceiling. “Mentally, not so good.”

 

She nodded in understanding. “Tomorrow?”

 

Matteo shrugged, “maybe, I guess we’ll see.”

 

She stared down at her hands for a moment before her face lit up, and she was grinning widely at him. “I can make pancakes.”

 

“Thought you didn’t know how,” Matteo responded teasingly—he loved it when Linn got passionate about something.

 

“Jonas has been teaching me,” she said excitedly as she leapt to her feet. “Be back soon.”

 

Matteo couldn’t help but smile as Linn bounded out of his room because that was such a Jonas thing to do—he had probably met Linn once or twice, yet he was teaching her how to make pancakes. The smile stayed on his face as he listened to the sound of bowls and pans and Linn humming in the kitchen—god he didn’t deserve this.

  
  
  
  


On the fourth day, Jonas entered his room with a tentative smile and a tub of ice cream. He flopped unceremoniously onto the bed next to Matteo, ruffling his hair affectionately before handing him the tub of ice cream.

 

“Hanna says this is supposed to help,” he said, and then proceeded to pull two spoons out of nowhere.

 

Matteo couldn’t help but snort, “and why do you get some as well?”

 

“Because, Mr. Florenzi,” Jonas began, taking a large spoonful of the chocolate ice cream. “I am your loving and supportive friend, I deserve some as well.”

 

Matteo grinned widely at that, taking his own large spoonful and shoving it into his mouth. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he knew it would make Jonas happy. They ate in silence—Jonas doing most of the eating—until the tub was halfway empty. Snatching it out of Matteo’s hands, Jonas deposited it on the makeshift bedside table before pulling Matteo into an affectionate headlock. He ruffled Matteo’s hair aggressively before shoving him to the side once again.

 

“That’s for scaring the shit out of me, Luigi.”

 

Matteo let out a loud groan, falling forward into Jonas’ chest and letting out a muffled apology. Matteo felt Jonas’ head fall on top of his, blowing on his hair in an almost childish way.

 

“Just don’t do it again,” he muttered, pulling Matteo’s head back so he could look into his eyes. “Got it?”

 

Matteo nodded before falling back into Jonas’ chest, earning a deep chuckle from the other boy. He could feel himself starting to relax as Jonas ran his hands through his hair, but he rolled away before he could fall asleep—he needed to talk to someone, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blubber and cry to Amira.

 

Matteo let out a slow breath as he picked at the bandage Mia had wrapped around his knuckles.

 

“He kissed Leonie.”

 

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Jonas’ hand was in his all of a sudden.

 

“I broke up with Sara,” he muttered tiredly. “And she was upset, but she understood. Then I saw David and Leonie—” he let out a slow breath. “I don’t know, everything sort of just…collapsed. I wanted to find you, but I couldn’t breathe, so I just ran.”

 

Jonas didn’t say anything for a while, simply let Matteo lean on him as he tried to push down his tears. ( _He’d cried enough_ ).

 

“Has he visited,” Jonas asked quietly.

 

Matteo shook his head, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t know if it would be worse if David actually did visit, but it tore him apart every day that he didn’t text or call because that meant he was drawing away from Matteo. He was probably just sick of dealing with him, just like his dad had been. He probably found out about Matteo’s breakdown and ran—ran with Leonie—as far away as he could. It made sense, Matteo knew David would leave him at some point, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

 

“Hey,” Jonas jostled his shoulder. “Stop it—I can practically hear you overthinking.”

 

“I can’t help it,” Matteo shrugged.

 

Jonas sighed, burying his face in Matteo’s hair. “I’ll talk to him, Luigi,” he mumbled. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

 

“Then I’ll beat him up,” Jonas mumbled jokingly. Though, at Matteo’s disapproving grunt, he went on, “or, I’ll talk to Laura—she’ll knock some sense into him.”

 

Sighing, Matteo rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His head was swimming with so many intrusive thoughts and he just wanted them to stop. He wanted to be numb and high again, but David had convinced him it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, which it wasn’t, but it still made him grumpy and irritable in the beginning.

 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered, toying with the ends of his sweater.

 

“Dude,” Jonas kicked his leg playfully. “You’re literally, like, the greatest person alive. Stop thinking people hate you for just existing, because it’s not true.”

 

Matteo smiled slightly at his friend. ( _God, he really didn’t deserve him_ ). “Tell that to my brain.”

 

Jonas gripped Matteo’s head, pulling on his hair playfully, “stop being a dick to Matteo, be nice.”

 

Matteo let out a loud bark of laughter, shoving Jonas away from him as the pair dissolved into giggles like they were middle school girls. Jonas pulled him into another headlock, prompting Matteo to kick at his legs, his arms flailing wildly around him. The pair ended up tangled together like when they were younger, Matteo sleeping soundly against Jonas’ chest, while the latter fell asleep with his cheek resting on Matteo’s head. ( _And if Hans took a bunch of photos and posted them on Instagram, well, none of them really complained_ ).

 

He didn’t dream of anything that night.

  
  
  
  


Matteo was sprawled unceremoniously across his bed when he got the text. He had been doing pretty good recently—him and Amira had studied yesterday, and he had helped Hans with his boy problems. He was planning on going back to school on Monday, and things were starting to look up. Of course, nothing in Matteo’s life could ever stay good for more than 5 minutes, could it.

  
  


 

> **David:** At my godmothers for a while, hope you feel better soon. <3
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Hanna:** Leonie’s telling the whole school you and Sara broke up because you’re gay.
> 
> **Hanna:** I don’t want to get involved but she won’t stop.
> 
> **Hanna:** I tried texting her but she just left me on read.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Sara:** Shit, Matteo, I didn’t think Leonie would tell everybody. I was just upset and ranting to her and I told her not to say anything, but she did.
> 
> **Sara:** I’m so sorry.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Jonas:** Dude, don’t know if you know but everyone knows your gay.
> 
> **Jonas:** Hanna said it was Leonie.
> 
> **Jonas:** Sorry, bro, I’ll try to get ppl to shut up
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Carlos:** Yoo Matteo, Kiki just told me you’re gay.
> 
>  
> 
> **Abdi:** Wait, she did??
> 
> **Abdi:** Bro, is it true?
> 
>  
> 
> **Jonas:** Guys stop, cmon they’re just ppl with no lives talking.
> 
>  
> 
> **Carlos:** Shit, sorry. I’ll tell Kiki.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Kiki:** Hope you’re okay. I’m with you all the way though!!!
> 
> **Kiki: ❤️❤️**
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Amira:** Stay off social media, and don’t overthink this. It’ll blow over soon, as long as you don’t fuel the fire.
> 
> **Amira:** I’m here if you need to talk, though.

  
  


Matteo barley resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room, choosing instead to slam it aggressively against his covers before throwing a book at his wall instead. Angry tears obscured his vision as he stumbled out of his room, planning to go on the longest fucking walk ever. Instead, when he made it out of his room, he came face to face with his flatmates, all of them reading something on Mia’s phone in the living room. Hans immediately jumped to his feet upon seeing Matteo, a sincere apologetic look on his face. ( _God, why was he sorry? He didn’t do anything_ ).

 

“Butterfly,” Hans said sympathetically, opening his arms up for Matteo.

 

Matteo didn’t even bother to mask his tears as he stumbled forward into Hans’ arms, allowing the older boy to wrap him up tightly as he let out a muffled sob into his shoulder. Matteo’s shoulders shook with sobs as Hans rubbed his hands up and down his back, mumbling comforting affirmations into the top of Matteo’s head. Soon, there were other arms around him and Matteo could feel Mia’s head on his shoulder. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve the comfort after being such a burden, but he also knew he didn’t deserve to be outed. So he leaned into the touches, allowing himself to cry and be angry, allowing his flatmates—his _friends_ —to comfort him. He allowed himself to be vulnerable once again, and he hated it as much as he loved it. He loved _them_ , despite how much his brain was screaming at him to run before they ran from him—but he didn’t.

 

He stayed put, he loved and he was loved back, and holy shit it was amazing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I like making him cry?? Idk, but Imma keep doing it.
> 
> Also, check out my tumblr if you want to, I just post random skam related stuff, but I’m always open to small one shots for druck or even skam france. I’m @gwensstaceys if you’re interested

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome and don't forget to leave a kudos and let me know what you think (because I need to validation to live).


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